


Kiss me, always.

by Softpouts



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: All For The Game - Freeform, Established Relationship, Exy (All For The Game), Fluff, Kissing, Late Night Kisses, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, neil is restless and andrew wants to sleep, the foxhole court - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softpouts/pseuds/Softpouts
Summary: I hate you.What were once useless words morphed into three blank spots that Andrew could scribble his truths in.I trust you.I like you.I love you.





	Kiss me, always.

**Author's Note:**

> Andreil rendition of person A asking person B if they still like them in the middle of the night. Oh, and they’re married.
> 
> My first aftg fic, yay! Comments and kudos would be very appreciated.... hope you enjoy it... bye!

Restless, Neil Josten was. 

Restless, reckless and suicidal.

The unwanted martyr that had walked into his life years ago with heavier baggage than the ones that surrounded his apprehensive eyes.

Right now, though, Neil was flat out annoying.

Rustling the sheets from beneath him from how much he was thrashing around the bed next to Andrew - successfully chasing the sleep away from his eyes.

Andrew had left him to his own battle for a while until he grew impatient by it. Their sleep is scarce as is with their busy schedules and tainted minds. It had been a while since Neil’s nightmares used to jolt them both awake - sweat dripping down his forehead onto his widened eyes and gaping mouth, chanting his name like it’s a spell. Pained gasps and whimpers flood Andrew’s head, and for a moment he questions whether they’re just echos of a past they’d locked behind or a present that won’t let go of the key. 

He gives in, eventually, with a loud sigh, flick of a switch and a call.

“Junkie,” his voice strained from stolen sleep. 

No answer, but the careful quietness _was _an answer to Andrew.

He turns around sluggishly and prods at Neil’s shoulder, breathing down on him, and watching the way Neil tenses under his groping fingers in the slightest ways. Almost impressed by how good he is at pretending to be asleep until he was reminded that it’s probably a feat he acquired from being on the run with a morbid mother for the majority of his life.

“Neil,” he tries again, and this time Neil does turn around.

“‘M sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says, smile shy of sheepish. He lifts a hand and drapes it over Andrew’s on his shoulder.

Over the years Neil and Andrew had unlocked all the boxes they’d caved in when they were young and scared. 

They’d been each other’s jumping pebbles in still ponds that were their hearts - breaking the rigidness into waves that washed all over their bodies, leaving them hot and flushed and breathless from each other’s heavy touches.

They breathed silently for a few moments before Andrew pushed Neil’s hand out of the way in favor of grabbing his chin and turning his face towards him. Needing to see his eyes.

He habitually traces the thick lines of healed scars with his calloused fingers.

Sometimes, he thinks back to the time where the only scars Neil wore on his face were the ones in his false dark eyes. Now, staring into his ocean blue eyes Andrew remembers how hideous those cheap cheating lenses were.

_ Idiot._

He props himself higher up on his elbow and waits for Neil to turn flat on his back which he does expectantly. 

They’re years past shy touches and questioning eyes, so the doubtful look the other gave him as he raised his hand made Andrew frown. Angry at how weird Neil was acting. 

He grabs the frozen hand rather harshly to plant it on his nape, and feels familiar fingers slip in between his disheveled blonde locks. His anger twists into cynicism and sarcasm. 

“Hey, Junkie, did all those blows to your head finally catch up to you?” He taunts, admittedly worried about the silent man.

“Drew,” Neil breathes, flexing his fingers in the blonde’s hair on his nape. Once and twice until he tugs. 

Andrew swallowed the bubbles that threatened to rise up at how desperate that had come out discreetly and waited. 

“Yes or no?” Finally came, but Andrew wasn’t prepared for it.

There were a few instances that had left Andrew baffled throughout his mess of a life, and Neil had been the star in most of them.

Annoyed, he tightens his grip on Neil’s jaw, “wanna say that again?” He threatens. 

Because Andrew thought it was clear they were past that stage when the lines Neil used to carefully navigate through Andrew became a smudged mess of  _Neil Josten’s. _

The thought of Neil retreating back silently - because he knows that question bore more than one sleepless night - made him sick.

His mind voluntarily plays flashes of all the times they’ve crossed those lines without a question, and panic starts to bubble in his chest.

“Neil,” he says through clenched teeth. Lips tight and tongue too stubborn to speak the words out loud. To even construct the question, so he just continues to search Neil’s eyes for answers. 

“It’s always a yes for me, Andrew, and you know that.” Neil splutters out when he catches on - tone teetering on sad, understanding the distraught emotions behind Andrew’s focused eyes.

Andrew feels something akin to relief, but then Neil opens his mouth again and lets out a shaky breath, “but has it... always been a yes for you? Is it, still?”

“What?” He deadpans more than asks because if stupid questions existed - and he _knows_ they do - this was definitely one.

However, the flicker of something unreadable in those blue eyes had throttled him off his horse a bit.

“I just,” Neil searched his face when he didn’t reply, “want to make sure.”

His stomach plummets at the implication of Neil’s words. 

_Want to make sure._

Neil is  _not_ sure, but Andrew had never stopped being...  _sure_.

The dyed haired boy with dark lies for eyes had turned his life around, pushed his edges hard enough to break them. 

Rearranged them into a puzzle that Andrew never wanted solved.

He liked it.

He  _loved_ it.

Love. That four lettered word that was carved into his mind and heart in the shape of an auburn haired man with honest blue eyes and scars on his face as a testimony of all his truths. His tongue have never uttered those words - never learned how to - but as Neil was struggling to keep calm under his unwavering gaze and tight lips, Andrew thinks that maybe he should have. 

_You like me.  
_

_I hate you._

It came out as a reflex that one night at eden’s twilight, and became his default response to Neil. He knew he didn’t sound convincing, not when he’d said it so easily.

The word “hate” had meant little to him, he’d felt it for long enough for it to lose its intensity. He’d been angry and spiteful for long enough for his feelings to be cemented into a intricate facade of nothingness. Impassivity. 

Until Josten.

_I hate you._

What were once useless words morphed into three blank spots that Andrew could scribble his truths in.

_I trust you._

_I like you._

_I love you._

Right now, though, he opts for kissing Neil’s gnawed lips off of his teeth, and suck the questions right out of his tongue. Stealing his breath away and giving it back in form of pants and bothered huffs as he works his hands under his shirt. Touching and feeling the scars all over his abdomen, revisiting that night years ago when Neil surrendered a bit of himself in Andrew’s care. 

A statement of his trust.

Andrew had trusted him ever since the _idiot_ hitchhiked his way back to palmetto.

He forces himself to pull away - and _stay_ away when Neil just pulls him back - to lay his forehead on the other’s sweaty one.

Josten needs an answer, he won’t sleep otherwise. 

“Thought the last yes I’d have to give you was when i said yes to marrying you,” he says bemusedly, “but you’ve always been thickheaded, Junkie.” Andrew muffles a laugh against Neil’s chapped lips.

His husband laughs bashfully and pulls him right in, kissing all the answers off of his lips. 

Swallowing the “yes” Andrew whispered into his hot mouth.

And Andrew was more than willing to spill all the answers he needed for the rest of their lives.

“Always.”


End file.
